


The Language That We Speak

by Aviantei



Category: Splintered - A. G. Howard
Genre: Gen, Morpheus/Jeb if you squint, One Shot, Overall canon compliant tho, So headcanon land, Twelve Shots of Summer, Written before Ensnared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-11-01 01:30:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20806211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviantei/pseuds/Aviantei
Summary: [One Shot] "Oh, you are so naïve. There's always time for tea," Morpheus chastises. [Twelve Shots of Summer]





	The Language That We Speak

**Author's Note:**

> This one shot was originally posted on fanfiction.net on June 25, 2014. It was written for the first Twelve Shots of Summer challenge, with the prompt of "Tea Party." I chose to take this in the most literal way possible and also in complete indulgence of my then fixation on the series after blasting through the first two books. Also I just love Morpheus, so--
> 
> Title is based on a lyric from Innerpartysystem's "New Poetry," because it sounded compelling to me at the time.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**The Language That We Speak**

By: Aviantei

A _Splintered_ One Shot

[Twelve Shots of Summer 3/12]

* * *

“You know,” Morpheus says, almost to himself, “I could fancy a spot of tea right now.”

Jeb tries to ignore him, and instead focuses on not falling over. They’re in the middle of running for their lives (well, at least Jeb is running. Morpheus is flying because of some injury or another to his leg, even if they both know it’s because if things really go bad, Morpheus has a better chance of surviving if he flies away and it’s not like he’ll hesitate to make a martyr out of Jeb anyway but whatever), and the last thing Jeb has time to think about is taking a break.

“I mean, honestly,” Morpheus continues. “We’ve been running ourselves ragged for nearly a week. Some relaxation would do us good, give us time to recharge.” Jeb can’t argue with that. They’ve barely had time to _sleep_, let alone have a decent meal (and he pretends like his stomach doesn’t audibly protest at the thought of not eating anytime soon. It’s just the way that Morpheus says it that makes it a bad idea, like he’s talking about the weather and not something that can cost them their lives). “What do you think, Mortal Knight?”

Jeb takes a chance to look over his shoulder, and catches a glimpse of Morpheus in the process. The netherling is staring at him, an expectant look on his face, and it’s pleasant enough that Jeb wants to hurl, even if there’s nothing in his stomach. The way behind them is empty, free of any pursuers, but there’s no guarantee for how long that’ll last.

Tea is definitely not an option.

“Will you just shut up?” Jeb spits, not wanting to waste any air. He’s managed to keep his breath so far, but that might not last if he wastes it on conversation. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly in the best place for that. Even if we _did_ find a tea set to use, I’m sure it would tear our faces off first.” (The sad thing is that it’s true, too, because wherever the mirror decided to dump them isn’t safe, and Jeb can’t even stand in one place for too long without the grass trying to eat through his shoes or dust making an active attempt to clog up his lungs.)

Morpheus clicks his tongue in disapproval. Jeb lets the anger he feels fuel his adrenaline. “Oh, you are so naïve. There’s _always_ time for tea,” Morpheus chastises. Gliding closer to Jeb than before, the netherling digs in one of his pockets, then pulls out a few small marbles. Jeb almost comes to a stop, but manages to keep going. “Good, so you do recognize them. Saves me the trouble of explaining.”

Jeb does recognize the stones, even if it’s just vaguely. All the memories he recently regained feel fuzzy, but he can remember what they do (He can remember Alyssa showing off the little marble she got as a gift, he can remember learning that they grant wishes, he can remember almost punching Morpheus for taking it away from her, and he can remember how rare they’re supposed to be, and of _course_ someone like Morpheus would have a collection of them, though Jeb really doesn’t want to know how he managed to get his hands on them especially since crying is involved and Morpheus just has too much pride for that).

This time, Jeb really does punch Morpheus, the former’s fist colliding with the latter’s wing. While the membrane doesn’t break from the impact, it’s enough to disrupt Morpheus’s smooth flight and send him face first into the ground.

“Are you kidding me?!” Jeb shouts, no longer caring if he makes too much noise and attracts any of the creatures that live in AnyElsewhere. “You had those the whole time and you didn’t _use_ them? We could have been out of here? We could have been back with Alyssa helping her deal with Red and you want to use them on a stupid _tea party_?!”

Morpheus scowls as he sits up, having to spit sand out of his mouth. Jeb takes a few steps closer (and he’s ready for a fight, even if he knows it’s misguided because Jeb is _tired_ and he wants to go home and right now the only thing he can come up with is to punch Morpheus again or kick him or _anything_ because it has to be better than being stuck here). “Don’t be ridiculous,” the netherling says, a far stronger bite in his voice. He gathers up the collection of marbles from the sand, hissing as the grains start to try and dig into his palm. “If I could have used these to get us out of here, I would have. Their magic is restricted here. I could have wished that we were back with Alyssa, but we’d just get dragged back here eventually.”

Jeb groans. He thought the stones could have done anything (after all, they did save him, free him from the inescapable jabberlock box, wiped out his memories, gave Alyssa exactly what she wanted). Then again, it makes some sense that they wouldn’t, just because everything about AnyElsewhere seems to work against them.

“Also, if you wanted to carry me around, Jebediah, you didn’t need to attempt to take out my wing.” Morpheus stands up, shaking sand out of his wings, almost hitting Jeb in the face in the process. “Really, if you’re always this clumsy with your advances, I have absolutely no idea why Alyssa even agreed to your proposal.”

“Well, _you_ certainly didn’t help much,” Jeb retorts. (If he didn’t know better, he would have said Morpheus tried to die for the sheer purpose of ruining the moment. In the end, though, Alyssa said yes, so Jeb can’t really complain.) He side steps, and the sand feels as if it’s starting to suck him in. Sure enough, looking down, his boots are already an inch deep in quicksand that wasn’t there seconds ago. “In case you haven’t noticed, your stupid conversation has just gotten us into more trouble, so why don’t you go ahead and wish for your tea table or whatever?”

Morpheus smiles (and he’s really good at faking it so he almost doesn’t look tired but the two of them have been together for a week straight so Jeb knows that the netherling isn’t okay and it’s all just an act but he doesn’t say it, because he’s not okay either and the second they admit it, it’s all over). “I thought you’d never ask.”

Jeb doesn’t know exactly what Morpheus wishes for (because netherling logic involves combating loopholes and exact wording and all sorts of things like that that Jeb doesn’t have the mental strength to decipher right now), but the end result is the tea table in front of him. Morpheus looks more than pleased and goes to sit down immediately, but Jeb just waits, the fact that he’s in a place other than AnyElsewhere and it’s _peaceful_ trying to sink in.

Jeb almost bolts and runs. Even if Morpheus said that they’d be dragged back to AnyElsewhere eventually, Jeb doesn’t want to believe it’s true. And even if it is, there’s still a chance that he could get a message to Alyssa, maybe even see her before they go back.

Except when Jeb looks away from the tea table, he’s met with nothing but trees reaching up and forming a canopy overhead. Between the gaps in the branches there’s just a strange mix of light greens and yellows, swirling together in the sky. Wherever they are isn’t real, and that’s saying something given that they’re literally on the other side of the looking glass.

“Are you going to sit down?” Morpheus asks. There’s a bit of a teasing tone in his words, even if it’s not entirely there. “You can’t tell me that you’re not hungry. At the very least get some rest. You look hideous.”

Jeb rolls his eyes. When he goes to take his spot at the table, he falls into it more than he sits. Every muscle in his body unwinds at once, and it wouldn’t surprise Jeb in the slightest if he fell asleep where he’s sitting. He at least needs to eat something. “Since when do you care, Mothball?” he returns, almost overwhelmed by the amount of food on the table.

(For a moment it looks just like the table at Hattington’s, covered in far too much food that’s possible to eat. Alyssa eats some berries without meaning to, and Jeb remembers just how close she was when she was unwound like that and following her desires with a pang in his chest. Not wanting to repeat his own near-death experience with the berries, Jeb avoids any jams, instead almost inhaling a few rolls from the same bowl Morpheus has started to eat from, not even caring if there’s anything wrong with them.)

“Come now, Pseudo Elf, if you’re in bad shape, your defensive power goes down.” There’s a tint of pink in the jewel-like patterns on his face, which Jeb is sure means something, but he doesn’t know how to read it unlike some of the other colors. “Besides, you and I both know that darling Alyssa would never forgive me if I didn’t take care of you since you seem to be incapable of doing it yourself.” Of course, he was thinking about Alyssa. Pink probably correlates to affection, just like some stupid mood ring.

Jeb scowls, draining his just-right temperature cup of tea in one go. When the china clatters back against its saucer, the liquid automatically refills. He doesn’t really care that Morpheus is full of utter shit at the moment as long as the netherling feeds him. As if to prove just how much he’s unconcerned, Jeb takes a purposeful bite out of something that looks like a doughnut and stares at a not exactly interesting knot in one of the trees.

Morpheus only sighs. “Fine, if you want to eat in silence, you’re free to do so. Though your manners are appalling.” Morpheus selects a few tea snacks from the middle of the table and sets them aside for himself. “This won’t last too long, Jebediah. Make sure you get your fill and you’re ready to run at any minute unless you want to be quicksand bait. We need to get back to Alyssa as soon as possible.”

Jeb takes a chance and looks at Morpheus’s face. His jewels are back to the same swirl of darker colors, showing his seriousness and apprehension all at once. (Jeb tries not to be concerned for the netherling but it happens anyway, because at this point they need each other to survive, and if one of them goes down, no matter what they say they’re both done for. At this point, they’re working for a common goal and any petty divisions they have as rivals for Alyssa just don’t seem to matter because when it comes to what they’re working for they agree for once, and while it’s strange, it’s still rather _nice_—)

“Why don’t you stop lecturing me and follow your own advice,” Jeb says, even if the force needed for an insult isn’t quite there. “If you get injured again I’m not hauling you and your heavy as all hell wings around this dessert, got it?”

Morpheus only chuckles into his tea cup. “See, Jebediah, I knew you cared.”

At this point, Jeb doesn’t even bother to retort.


End file.
